I Do Not Care For Categories

Like everyone else, I like things based on certain styles that appeal to me. For instance, if you've taken a look at my latest portfolio pieces, my latest entries for the Untilted comic strip, and my new personal art thing I'm doing, you would understand that I'm generally drawn towards more abstract narratives and colorful styles.

However, I have never appreciated a work of fiction or art simply because of its stylistic classification or the conventions of its genre. What this means is I don't like a work of art just because it's abstract, or a work of fiction just because it belongs to a specific genre. So, the truth is that I don't really discriminate in terms of genres or art, but then again I don't really like just any kind of work either, even within what I'm usually drawn towards.

I don't really care whether something is abstract or realist or fantasy or science fiction. I'm not the kind of artist who feels the need to specialize in any one style or genre. I do not regard a painting as worthy of praise solely because it embraces abstraction, nor do I elevate a novel merely on the basis of its placement within some sub/microgenre's canon.

Rather, my judgment is predicated upon a work's ineffable qualities that, in a given moment, stir a genuine response within me. In a way, it's mostly about the vibe it personally gives me. And I'm more interested in giving that kind of vibe I like rather than based on an existing category.

Our modern world is category-based. It doesn't care that I just like something based on the way it looks or the way it makes me feel. All it cares about is sorting things through labels that furnish convenience for marketers, reviewers, and the reading public alike. It gets to a point where it can be reductive.

Contemporary literary fiction, for instance, is often distilled into a series of marketable signifiers. Everything has to have a description that best fits a specific category. Like, oh, this book contains a dragon-fighting knight warrior as a main character, when he only does that in one minor scene. Or something generic like “enemies-to-lovers”, when the actual couple's dynamic is just playful fighting at first, not actual enemy-like fighting. Such brief descriptions, however convenient, risk eclipsing the real depth and merit of the work itself.

My own comic strip is not an exercise in demographic engineering. I've got no desire in tailoring my creations to satisfy a narrowly defined audience. My aspiration is more modest, albeit no less earnest: to make something that engages the widest possible readership while remaining true to the aesthetic and emotional standards that satisfy my own sensibilities.

While I seldom ever eschew a work of art for failing to adhere to a prescribed category, I also do not get excited over every piece that happens to occupy the abstract niche, or whatever broader category it belongs to that I'm fascinated with at the moment. The vast majority of artistic works I encounter evoke a state of indifference – neither ecstatic nor dismissive, simply neutral. Periodically, however, something will pierce that veil of neutrality, resonating with a depth that feels both intimate and unexpected. Such moments are rare, cherished, and emblematic of the selective emotional connectivity that guides my appreciation.

For the most part, I would like to take a stance that distinguishes my genuine engagement from the performative “support artists” posturing rampant on social media platforms. Although I do want to raise up underappreciated and marginalized artists, I do not aspire to curate a feed of trending artworks or to amass a repertoire of superficially boosted art posts on Mastodon. My preferences, as oddly specific as they may appear to the average onlooker, are rooted in a sincere reverence for the particularities that render art truly affecting, be it digital, traditional, or hybrid.

For many years, digital art has been viewed with both fascination and skepticism, with the former seeing its potential in making art accessible, and the latter being mostly concerns such as “it's the computer doing the work for humans, not the humans themselves” and many others like it. Now, with the rise of things like artificial intelligence, it's threatened to delegitimize the digital art world in every way, as even the most powerful large language model can put out something at least passable (though still full of errors), and there have been a lot of digital artists, game developers, and other kinds of creatives that have been caught using AI to make their work, while others have only been accused of it.

It's a very hard time for those digital artists who refuse to use AI but have been accused of it anyway. I personally haven't been accused as I'm anti-AI myself and don't get much feedback on my art due to weak popularity, but I've seen it happen to mostly popular digital artists that work with fandom stuff and anime art. I'm also seeing a lot of generative artists that don't use any AI and/or LLMs at all often get misunderstood for what they do. If some people get rightfully found out and caught, then I have no complaints about that and only hope they will genuinely improve. But the new future, the way it's been going and hurting all artists, it just worries me.

All that aside, I would like to talk about my artistic process when it comes to Untilted nowadays and my newer art in general. I have an archive of old photographs taken by my family on their external drives, as well as photographs I've taken during school, and so what I've been doing is that I use Krita to modify the photo a bit, maybe zoom in a specific part, and then just put a bunch of similar photos with similar modifications on top of each other with various different effects like Addition and NOR and Saturation (you'd understand if you use Krita yourself). Then I either give it some kind of paint filter or use the brushes themselves to give it a painterly effect. Sometimes I blur the rough pixelated spots a bit, but other times I don't and leave it as is. Lastly, I add whatever text I feel like adding. All this done with my own images and no AI.

So, what exactly is Untilted's genre? Well, in practical terms, it would be a kind of experimental, almost psychological (without the thriller or horror), gag-a-day comic strip. It shares the same plotless and randomly comedic structure but instead of the comic being mainly comedic, it encompasses many kinds of moods and experiments with many kinds of mediums, drawing styles, and more. Something that many comic strips I've read don't really do that much.

For any inquiries or feedback, please contact me at this email right here. (When commenting on a blog post, kindly include “Re: [insert blog post name here]” in the subject line.)